My day started as usual, I woke up, walked to work, enjoyed my job, and dread coming home. I live alone..in an apartment. It’s pretty pointless to have since I tend to spend the most of my time at my mother’s house. She seemed devastated for me to have moved out, she really loves me, after all I am an only child.
Now, here’s a little background on me, I never actually gave in to any form of therapy or religion, nothing big that really drives me except for temporary obsessions and impossible daydreams. I really just go on with my life and planned that from the beginning and expect nothing from the end, more of a “once i get there, I get there” thing. Though there have always been many things holding me back, like refusing to socialize, random urges of aggression, always feeling anxious, feeling paranoid, or sometimes, hearing voices..
These are tolerable, I tend to roam with the mindset that there is always worse elsewhere, but that doesn’t mean this doesn’t bring me down, these feelings always make me upset, I no longer feel or care for those who aren’t me, I do care and love these people but I lack the motivation to express it, no longer care for my entertainment nor my hobbies, whether this deep sadness is around or not, without my obsession i feel nothing but like an empty shell with materialistic, narcissistic ways of thinking, In my mind I always felt like a villain sometimes I don’t know who I really am, just a soul that will someday be consumed by rage and hatred.
These voices, these obsessions. They are the ones that fuck me up the most, sometimes life would feel so pointless and empty that, I find something small and pathetic to latch onto, to devote my time and energy on, I think i’m in love and that I cannot live without it, until a few years on and I find something or someone else. As for the voices, they are not always direct ones, like the ones of a loved one after you miss them or not around them for too long, but ones in your own head. The ones that tell you to think and do the things that you don’t want to do. The ones that degrade you if you even think about leaving your obsession behind, the one that threatens your life if you don’t follow it’s simple task. One that threatens the death of others and your peers if you don’t comply with that task. The voices are so dark that you bang your head and feel like screaming because of your guilt of even thinking of such filth.
You’d think that it’d be easy to just ignore them but it’s not that simple, these demands are built into your brain, they show up consistently and at random, even at times they are nice ones. They are like these mental compulsions, that make these mental rituals or just “Run around that pole and kick a kid in their head or everyone in this house will die.” A part of you will believe that, it is logically impossible, I mean it’s just a thought right? No, you get trapped into these delusions that they are very much real, why risk it? Why let it happen? Sometimes they come true right? Sometimes people really do die.
Of course all this that has been holding me back is no one’s business, not a souls, no matter how common or uncommon it is, but what really keeps me up at night is wondering if it’s all real..
On my way to my friend’s place from work, I get a phone call from my mother, looking down from the windshield to my phone I answer, “Hello?” she wonders if I could make it to her place later tonight after work. I was already out so might as well cancel my friend’s plan right? Well maybe not, I visit her everyday, just one day won’t hurt right? The voices are back again..
Conflicting between them, I was so stuck on these ideas that I hardly noticed the semi truck colliding into me. Then dark numbness.. Everything is black, I’m not in pain, every feeling is fuzzy, my surroundings reek of gunpowder? Fireworks? I’m trying to remember what happened but my brain can only process a slowed, blurred, slideshow of it all.
A part of me thinks of how I seemed to not care about my current situation or of how I did not have enough of that time to think much of it before it happened. Once again, guilt. Not once did I think of how those that loved me felt but of myself, why am I so terrible?..Just laying here in this damaged car, I have no motivation to move, someone else will find me right? Oh wait, people have. Many as a matter of fact, and i’m not in a car, i’m in an ambulance.
The murmurs of the worried people around me sound like gibberish, oh how I could tell them I’m fine, but I can’t bring myself to say it. My mind is telling me not to say it..or else something very bad will happen.. Maybe I should just sleep, the problems won’t fix themselves but for now neither should I. In the hospital bed, I have the moment of nearly facing the end of my life on repeat, wow. It’s so quiet, and I don’t mean the beeping of the heart rate monitor, or the cries of my loved ones, but in my head, the voices finally had stopped. Silly peers, I’m still alive and well, can’t you see me smiling? Everything is okay. Then why are they still crying? Maybe I should just open my eyes and speak again, that sounds good..
What the hell..I can’t move, I can’t speak, I can’t do a thing...
I hear the steps of the doctor come in, I guess when you lose your sense of sight and movement, other senses such as hearing are heightened. This must be a coma.. In the cases where you can hear but not see, I should be fine, sleeping for a while right? No more responsibility for a while..
“Will he be alright?? He won’t die will he?!” That’s my mother! Of course not..I’m right here, it’s just a coma. I’m only asleep, this is all temporary.. “I’m afraid he’s brain is dead, which would mean that his brain is no longer working in any capacity and never will again. His other vital organs will still function as long as they are on artificial life support, there will be no chances of him having recovery and legally, your son is considered dead, i’m sorry. If it eases your heart, he is no longer in and can no longer feel pain..” After “brain dead”, everything else the doctor said was drowned out noise, all I could hear was the screaming sobs of my mother..
But that’s when I heard it, the sound of the voice, my inner silence was ripped open by a voice that was different than usual. It spoke loud and clear as if I were listening to it through a pair of headphones, it sounded nothing like me..”Now you’ve done it..” the voice said. Maybe it was just my mind scaring me, it is only my mind. Until it continued, “Didn’t you hear the doctor? You think you can just ignore me? You’re the one who’s braindead, things won’t get back to normal, you can’t brush me off, you more than all people know that i’ve always been here, and I’ll always be here, I can make demands you know you can’t follow and watch- or hear in your case, everyone around you fall one by one as you sit here in your deathbed like a worthless shell. The voice was right, there was and is nothing I can do, can’t someone just put me to sleep now? Before any more destruction occurs?
“Doctor, is there anything we can do? I refuse to let my son die this way..” Yes, mother, just put me to sleep.. “I don’t care about the expenses, let me take my baby home.” WHAT?! WHAT KIND OF LIFE WOULD I BE LIVING? The voice answered my enraged thoughts, “To them you are nothing but a thoughtless breathing version of their son. That they simply won’t want to let go of.” I feel nothing but misery, this thing inside me, the thought that I could never wake up but live everything I hated about my day to day life and held me back the most, myself.. and apart from that I have no control over how to fix it, no control over my body, and no control over half of my thoughts. I really have let my rage consume me.
They put me in a wheelchair, after connecting everything they could to my body in order to live, they were so delicate with my “corpse.” Right off the bat I was eligible to get an arrangement where they’d install a hospital bed in my mothers home..
They either had me strapped to a wheelchair to keep my body from limping, or in a bed.
It was a ritual for my mother to sit by my bedside and talk to me. She’d talk about nonsense and I’d actually listen, I’d get so bored and so scared I’d be like this forever, having nothing to say about it, I’d actually get sad when my mother would go. I beat myself up for how I’ve been as a son to her, the only time I got to hear her out was when I was considered dead.
Oh no, a regret. That voice would normally show up whenever I feel guilty, and take these feelings to the extreme. Make me do bad things to redeem myself. Though I can’t do bad things, so I must get my brain to change the subject, but I can’t stop thinking about something when focusing too hard on getting rid of it. Though apparently when I think too hard, my mother catches me twitching or the movement of my fingers. She’s called the doctor a few many times about it. They told her that this wasn’t out of the ordinary. If only they were.
Sometimes at night, when my father sleeps. My mother would enter my room and stroke my hair, she’d whisper to herself. “I know you’re alive, I know you’re in there. I know you hear me, you never died.” It’d feel off putting but, what could I possibly do about it. Then she’d just walk back to her room.
A week goes by and it only feels like an eternity, I’ve been going insane. If I weren’t already, but I haven’t heard that voice. I haven’t been able to do anything to trigger it. Literally.
Worst part was the tubes, for feeding. They assured my parents that I’m incapable of feeling pain. But that’s far from the truth, I can feel it all. But I can’t scream, can’t flinch, or do anything. Why is it that I have no brain activity, and my pain receptors aren’t functioning, yet here I am conscious and feeling it all? It just doesn’t make any sense, but like I said, here I am.
I wonder what keeps me alive. I’ve never been big on religion but I pray something happens, whether I come back or I die, either works.
My mother came in at night again, she was angry. She was trying to get me to talk, to give her a sign, or something to prove my consciousness. So I thought, and thought hard, I thought about things that would irk at me the most, I thought about the things that’d make me cry. Nothing. Mother walked out of the room frustrated, she stopped at the door frame, “I’ll try something to get you to answer me..” Then she left.
I heard my parents argue in the other room, mother wanted to bring in a witch doctor, while father called her crazy. Only if he knew she was far from wrong, she was crazy but correct. “He’s dead, our son is dead, and it hurts for me to let go but I have to, this is absurd and we don’t need to let him go this instant but until you’re ready.” He had a point, all things gone you have to let go eventually, but it still hurt, the fact that he had given up on me.
Putting myself in his shoes, I can’t blame him either.
Another week passed, I’ve grown less worried about myself and more so worried about my mother, it was like I was watching her go more hopeless. She entered my room at night, and cried. “I’m sorry this happened, it’s all my fault, I’m so sorry.” Then again, she walked away.
I wonder what she was on about, I guess she is going crazy..
Father entered my room, it’s been a while since he has. He was sitting silently, and brushed my hair back. “You know, whenever your mother is in a tight situation, she can’t think properly. She acts recklessly and selfishly. I know there’s no saving you son. She doesn’t believe I’m hurting too, I had to let go, and not face you.” Father sighed, “It’ll be a long while before she gets on her feet again, so please hang in there, come back or wait longer, you’ll be at peace soon enough.” Then he walked away.
All this lying alone, unable to speak, unable to move, has made me realize how much I took living for granted. I was depressed, but for what? I get it now..and, I don’t want to die.
Another night goes by, my mother doesn’t even bother entering, the following day she didn’t even feed me. Father even had to come in to do that. That voice came back, just to tell me that if I don’t get up and do something, it won’t be my family who gets hurt, but me.
Hungry, bored, a voice in my head telling me I’m going to die over and over.
I heard it in many voices, the voice of my father, my mother, my friends. Everyone and even my own and I couldn’t make it stop, I just wanted to scream from the top of my lungs but I couldn’t. “You’re going to die.” In a sobbing voice, but it wasn’t in my head. I see my mother right next to my bedside staring at the live support that kept me here. She placed her hand on the plug, stared at it, then left the room.
I’ve never been so scared, if they let me go, what’ll happen to me? Will they burn my body? Will they bury me alive? I know I’m alive, so unplugging the life support won’t change a thing will it?
The day passes by, nothing happens, mother feeds me, talks about her day, and leaves.
Then of course, night comes. Mother comes in, and she’s silently sobbing with her face on the bed. She then lifts her head up, and looks into space. “You know, it’s not your fault you were the way you were.” She chuckled, “When I was younger I did the same thing, Live but not really be there. Stuck in my head. Except, when I met your father, he always thought so logically, he told me that ‘The voices won’t touch you, they are only holding you back for nothing.’ He recommended that I ignore them for a day, and to tell him if anything happens, and to my surprise nothing did. Until I had you. I only noticed you had this when you started being hesitant with things you wanted. Even the day you got into that accident, I finally, after many years. Got a voice in my head I yet again ignored, if I don’t die, you will.” She cried some more, “I know you’re not dead yet, because I keep getting these voices. They keep telling me it’s not over, so that’s how I know you’re still in there, I just hope you can forgive me.”
I have been unplugged.
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